by Lori Wick
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Would you find me rude if I asked what you believe?”
Jennings smiled. “I don’t find you rude, Thomas, but neither do I have an answer just now. When I do, I’ll let you know.”
The conversation didn’t go on much longer. Jennings explained that he would take Thomas and his siblings to see the house in the morning. Thomas thanked him and went on his way.
The reality of it all hit the oldest Jennings child just after he exited the study and shut the door behind him. His heart overwhelmed with emotions, he sought out a place where he could be alone.
Chapter Eleven
When young Frank arrived in the salon long after the children had retired to bed that night, his father met him in the middle of the room. Lydia kept her seat, and Jennings looked on, but the conversation was hushed.
“What is it, Frank?”
“Did anyone have a moment with Thomas?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“He wasn’t himself all evening, and I wondered if Uncle Jennings had been rather harsh on him.”
“He wasn’t harsh on him at all, Frank. He just told him about Thornton Hall.”
Frank looked frustrated.
“Come along, Frank. Tell your mother and uncle what you’ve seen.”
The younger Palmer did as he was told, his uncle listening closely.
“When you say he wasn’t himself, Frank, what exactly do you mean?”
“He was very quiet. He played the game with us, but I could tell he was distracted.”
“Did you ask him what was wrong?” Lydia asked.
“No, I didn’t think he would want to share.”
“I’ll check on him,” Jennings said, rising to do just that. However, he found Thomas sleeping soundly. He determined to check with him in the morning, but at the breakfast table he was in a fine humor, and Jennings felt it was best to let the matter drop.
“Just over this rise—” Jennings said to the three children with him an hour after breakfast. They were in an open coach, all eyes turned for a first glimpse of Thornton Hall. And they were not disappointed. A fine prospect but not overly grand, its open gardens and walled areas could be viewed from the gravel drive. A maze cut through the hedges could be glimpsed in the backyard. Fruit trees dotted the landscape. The house itself looked to be in fine shape— two stories with many windows, balustrades, and double doors that opened onto balconies.
“May we go in?” James asked, his face alight with excitement.
“Indeed we may,” Jennings felt very good in telling him. Lydia had said that he was changed, and he would have to admit that he was, but what she didn’t realize was how good it felt to do things for these children.
The carriage pulled abreast of the front door, and the four stepped down. A footman, still in residence with several other servants, opened the door for them.
“Hello,” Jennings greeted him.
“You are most welcome, sir. Would you like for me to show you around or leave you to your own exploration?”
“I think we’ll do fine on our own. We’ll call if we’ve a need.”
“Very well, sir. There is always someone nearby.”
Thomas could have wept with relief. It was nothing like Morehead. That had been his greatest fear. A new “home” with this new “father” he could manage, but the same type of home without Godwin Jennings was simply more than his heart could take.
They stood in a huge foyer, stairs to the right and doors in every direction. Jennings showed them the large parlor, small parlors, very spacious library, dining room, and stairs to the servants’ quarters—all before taking them upstairs to show them their rooms.
“We’ll start with you, Penny,” Jennings said as he opened one of the first doors. “How does this suit?”
“Oh,” that little girl managed when she was given a view of a room done in every shade of pink. It was so feminine and inviting that she could only turn in a circle and stare.
“Look around, Penny, and if you need us, we’ll be just down the hall.”
James’ room was done in browns, and Thomas’ room was all green. Both were spacious and well laid out. The boys seemed as delighted as their sister.
All the rooms had views of the yard and land to the rear of the house, and Penny’s was especially good for looking down into the maze.
Jennings’ own room looked to the front of the mansion. It had been done in black and gray—not his first choice— but in time he would have that redone.
“Mr Jennings,” that man heard at his open doorway. He turned to see Penny standing just inside.
“Yes, Penny?”
“Where is the mother at this house?”
Jennings came to her in the doorway and knelt down to her level.
“What are you looking for, Penny?”
“A mother, like Aunt Lydia. Is she here?”
Jennings was stunned but knew he must be honest.
“In order for there to be a mother here, Penny, I must be married, and I am not married.”
A slightly guarded look filled the little girl’s eyes, but she still faced him.
“Is there a nanny?”
“No, there is no nanny. Megan and Cook will be coming from London later today. They’ll get things all ready for us so we can move in. If sometime after that we find we need a nanny, we’ll pick that woman together. Do you understand?”
Penny nodded, and only then did Jennings see that the boys were standing in the hall listening.
“Thank you, sir,” Thomas said to him for more than one reason.
Jennings came to full height.
“I think it’s time you started calling me Jennings,” he said, his gaze taking in all three of them. “I don’t need to be Mr to you; I think Jennings will be just fine.”
“Mr Jennings,” Penny said, having immediately forgotten what he had said.
“Yes, Penny?”
“Can we show Marianne our new house?”
“Yes, we can.”
“Today? Can we show her today?”
“May we,” Thomas corrected her, “and no, Penny, Marianne is on a trip to see her sister.”
“Oh.”
Jennings didn’t know what it was about that “oh,” but the word along with Penny’s solemn little face did things to his heart.
“We’ll have Marianne come just as soon as she is able. Will that be satisfactory?”
Penny nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Penny,” James prompted her.
“Thank you,” she added, her eyes having grown a bit.
Jennings smiled, thinking again of how proud their father would have been of them.
“I think there are acres of grounds to explore! Shall we see some of them?”
The children were all for this, and Jennings let them lead the way. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart was so light. He would need to recall it at bedtime the very evening they moved in, however, because the scene that night would not be lighthearted in the least.
Tipton
“How do you think they’re doing?” Lydia asked Palmer. With their children in bed, they were alone in the small parlor for the first time in a very long while.
“I think fine. The children were excited, and Jennings seemed very content.”
Side by side they sat quietly for a time, Lydia gazing across the room, Palmer watching Lydia.
“You’re worrying,” he accused her.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve kissed your neck twice and you haven’t noticed.”
Lydia turned to look at him.
“Have you?”
“Yes.” Palmer was amused now.
Lydia turned her gaze back to the room.
“All right. Do it again. This time I’ll pay attention.”
A smile lighting his eyes, Palmer leaned and kissed her ear and then her shoulder.
“That was nice,�
�� Lydia said.
“I was hoping you would think so.”
Mrs Palmer turned to look at him, working to appear as innocent as possible.
“I was worrying, so I think we’d better do something to get my mind off of Jennings and the children.”
“A game of whist?” Palmer asked, his eyes as serious as he could manage.
Lydia laughed and put her arms around him. Palmer held her right back. The last thing they needed at the moment was a card game.
Thornton Hall
“Let me have her,” Jennings directed Thomas, who was holding his sobbing sister far past her bedtime. He had been holding her for close to an hour, and Jennings knew it had to stop.
“No, no,” Penny cried as the exchange was made, but Jennings ignored her.
“Head to bed, Thomas. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The young man took one more look at his inconsolable sister, nodded, and went on his way. Jennings was just behind him, but he turned in the hallway to head downstairs, his arms full of a fighting, crying child.
“Thomas, Thomas, I need Thomas!”
“No, Penny.” Jennings kept his voice calm with an effort. He was tired as well.
She continued to cry and beg for her older brother, but Jennings said nothing until he was in a large chair before the fire in the blue salon. A few servants hovered nearby, but Penny seemed unaware of anything but her misery.
“Penny,” Jennings spoke at last, his deep voice low. “I need to tell you something.”
“I need Thomas,” she sobbed miserably.
“Thomas needs his sleep. You don’t want him to get so tired that he grows ill, do you?”
The little girl sniffed and sobbed but said nothing.
“I’ll tell you what. So that James and Thomas can sleep, you and I will sit here together until you feel tired enough to go to bed.”
Again no answer. Jennings’s brain scrambled for things to say.
“What day shall we have Emma and Lizzy over to spend the night with you in your pink room?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, we’ll have to plan it. We left Tipton sooner than I thought possible, and you’re sure to miss them, so we’ll have to plan many days when you can play together.”
Jennings looked down now to see that he was being watched.
“Do you have Mr Pat with you?”
Penny raised the hand that clutched the rabbit.
“How long have you had Mr Pat?”
“Since I was a little girl.”
“That’s a long time,” Jennings said, managing only a slight smile in his voice.
A great yawn escaped Penny, followed by several slow blinks; nevertheless, she opened her eyes wide and continued to stare up at Jennings.
“Are you getting tired?” Jennings thought it safe to ask.
“My room is scary,” Penny said, a distinct quiver in her voice.
“It is? What’s scary about it?”
“It’s just scary.”
“Well, you know what we’re going to do?” Jennings said as he stood, Penny still in his arms. “We’re going to go back up to your room, turn the lantern high, and see if everything is all right. Then if it is, you can lie in the bed and I’ll sit in the chair until you fall asleep.”
Penny didn’t say anything, but Jennings believed with all his heart this plan would work. Megan had even delivered a glass of milk to Penny’s bedside table, but not two feet into the room she was inconsolable once again.
This time there was no talking to her. She cried herself to sleep in Jennings’ arms, as that man asked himself what he could possibly do next.
“All right, Penny,” Jennings said the next afternoon, having come up with another plan. The sun was shining full into her windows, and both her brothers were present.
“Lie on the bed and tell me what part of the room scares you.”
She looked terribly uncertain but did as she was asked. As soon as she lay back, Jennings watched her eyes go immediately to the large wardrobe across from the foot of her bed.
“Let’s open these doors and see what’s in here.”
Penny sat up when he did this.
“Oh, look, your dresses hang in here. James,” Jennings directed, shifting them out of the way, “come climb in here and make sure the walls are solid.”
Thomas smiled. This was the first Mr Jennings he’d met, the problem solver, the analytical mind that liked a challenge. It wasn’t hard to see why little girls were beyond his reach.
Jennings and James were still poking around in the wardrobe when Penny let out a shriek. All eyes flew to her as she pointed to a large bee near her window. As they watched, the bee landed and was quiet, but buzzing could still be heard.
“We have a hive outside that window,” Jennings said quietly on his way to the window, “and they’re finding their way indoors.” With that Jennings smiled at Penny. “Thank you, Penny. Our mystery is solved.”
“You’re going to make the bees go away?” She had already come off the bed and was near the door.
“Yes, I am.”
And Penny soon learned that he meant it. Two groundskeepers were stung in the process, and many hands were needed, both inside and out, to get the second-floor job done, but by bedtime that night, the hive and bees were gone. Penny was still a bit tense, but Jennings sat with her until she fell asleep.
He was able to do this with relative patience because his pocket still held the missive from his sister. The note invited all three children to come the next morning and spend the day. Jennings had swiftly sent an affirmative reply. He found he could use a day on his own.
In the late afternoon on Saturday, Marianne Walker sat very still at the edge of the woods, calling herself every type of fool. She had only just arrived back from her sister’s that morning. The carriage ride had been long, and at the time a walk had sounded like such a fine idea.
The sound of a horse’s approach caught her ears a moment later, and Marianne turned her head swiftly with plans to call out to whoever was passing. Her heart sank when she saw Mr Jennings ride into view.
“Well, Miss Walker,” he said pleasantly, bringing his mount a bit closer and swinging from the saddle. “The children told me you were away.”
“I arrived back just this morning,” she said, feeling awkward about not standing but knowing it was impossible.
Jennings smiled at her before his eyes shifted to the view of the valley below them.
“Well, you certainly picked a good spot for a rest. The view here is beyond compare.”
“Yes, it is,” Marianne agreed, taking note for the first time.
“Well, I’d best leave you to your solitude,” Jennings now said, a bit loath to leave.
“Oh, don’t leave on my account, Mr Jennings.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure,” she said graciously and smiled when he sank to the grass some ten feet away and joined her. “Will you be moving to Thornton Hall soon?”
“We moved this week.”
“So soon?”
“Yes. I hadn’t planned to rush it, but my people came from London and got right to work. They sent word to Tipton that the house was ready on Wednesday. It took the better part of the day, but we moved Thursday.”
“And how are you settling in?”
“It’s had its rough points, but I think the children like it.”
And you? Marianne wanted to ask but feared it was too personal. How are you doing?
“Penny had bees in her room.”
“Oh, no!”
“She was a bit panicked, but we got rid of them.”
“I think I would panic as well,” Marianne said and a moment later saw that he was watching her.
“I don’t think you’re the panicky type, Miss Walker.”
Marianne laughed. “With bees in my room, I might surprise you.”
They were quiet for a time, and suddenly Jennings noticed that the wind had picked up.
This took Marianne by surprise, but she still recovered nicely.
“I believe I’ll sit for a time, Mr Jennings. Please don’t let me keep you.”
“Are you certain? I hate to rush off, but I told the girls we would take the pony trap out when I got back.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I think I just want to sit for a time.”
Jennings wasn’t too sure he wanted to leave her, but he reminded himself that she had been alone when he found her. He also knew that this section of forest and valley was a part of her father’s land. He bowed graciously and started off. The view along the path was much the same, but in his haste to return to the children, he didn’t take as much notice this time.
Tipton was in sight when it hit him. Bringing his horse to a halt, he thought about the fact that Miss Walker hadn’t even stood to bid him goodbye. Something was wrong.
Hoping he had miscalculated but strongly suspecting he hadn’t, Jennings turned his mount and heeled him in the direction from which he’d just come.
Marianne was a picture of serenity as she looked out over the valley, but in truth her mind rushed with options. Walking home was out of the question, but waiting for her family to notice she’d been gone too long was not at all comforting. And Jennings was right, the wind was picking up. In less than an hour she would be very cold.
She didn’t know if she was relieved or not when she watched Jennings ride back into view. Her ears had caught the sound of his horse, so she was turned and looking at him when he approached. He left his horse much as he had before, but this time he walked with purpose until he stood directly before her.
“You’re hurt, are you not?” he wasted no time in asking.
“Why would you ask that, Mr Jennings?” Marianne hedged.
With a shake of his head, Jennings dropped to one knee.
“It wasn’t hard to figure. I told you my view on deceit and women who feign injuries.”
Marianne looked away. As if the ankle wasn’t painful enough, she’d now been caught feigning in another way.
